


Not Again.

by VixenVip



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VixenVip/pseuds/VixenVip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First fanfic and it's pretty bad... I still don't know how to work this website lol</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Again.

I ran.   
I don't know where, I'm not even sure why. I just have to run. I have to keep my eyes fixed on that black coat streaming out behind sherlock's shoulders and listen to my own rapid heartbeat. I am familiar to this feeling and god have I missed it. Burning lungs, sour taste and beating heart. It makes you feel more alive than ever. If you dare to close your eyes you can listen to that soft but sudden thud of your heartbeat and the echoing clunk of shoes hitting the hard concrete.  
We are approaching a roof gap.  
Sherlock leaps. I leap.  
We both made it.   
Problem is, he has too.  
There he is. as sinister as ever, not by looks oh no, his eyes. His murderous stare. He's crazy.  
There's no where else to go. The rooftop stops here. I can hardly see the floor.  
My stomach twists and writhers in dread.  
He's approaching.  
Sherlock's face is white, blank. No redness of the cheeks or any sign we had been running. Moriateys killer eyes gleam once more.  
I know what's happening and I can't stop it.  
Help me.  
At the same time like clockwork as always Moriatey holds that gun to his mouth. Synchronised with the explosion sherlock's arms stretch out and he falls.   
But I'm falling too  
My whole insides writher again in agony as I yell out through a clenched jaw, my arms grasping wildly.  
I hit something hard on the knuckle.  
Cursing under my breath, I turn back around while massaging my hand. I'm soaked in sweat. Mary's here, it's all okay. I'm back in my home, my hand isn't broken from hitting bedside table and sherlock has been dead for one year and seven months now. I stretch, try to shake off the nausea and attempt to sleep again.  
If only I could.


End file.
